Serendipity
by infinite vertigo
Summary: AU Deidara was never one that lady luck favored; he was fairly sure he had offended her in his past life. But when he sees the same redhead not once, not twice, but three times then surely she must be forgiving him. SasoDei


**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.title: **__serendipity__**.**_

_**.pairing: **__sasodei__**.**_

_**.genre: **__romance, humor__**.**_

_**.word count: **__6,327__**.**_

_**.summary: **__deidara was never one that lady luck favored; he was fairly sure he had offended her in his past life. but when he sees the same redhead not once, not twice, but three times then surely she must be forgiving him__**.**_

**.serendipity.**

Deidara hated the subway. Especially this one in Hong Kong, he thought as he felt another person push against him. Instinctively, he moved the messenger bag to the front, leaning against it, pressing it against the pole he was holding onto so some pickpocket wouldn't even try.

There were far too many people, he decided, that was one of the main reasons he hated this subway. Blue eyes narrowed as the subway slowed to a screeching halt and the doors opened. Every time this happened, Deidara hoped that more people would get off than on. Every time he was wrong.

He had spent the last two weeks in Hong Kong, coming from Japan to study under some influential artist that Deidara, personally, didn't quite care for. But he was grateful for the opportunity because he supposed he did learn a lot and was reluctant about leaving and going back to Tokyo to begin his third year at Toyo University as an art major. Hong Kong itself really wasn't bad; it was just the subway that he hated.

Sighing, he let go of the pole for a moment to take his headphones off, leaving them around his neck. His stop was next, he had seen when he looked up at the map, and while he would much rather listen to his music than the Cantonese chattering around him, it may prove to be dangerous.

He had a flight to catch but he had a few hours; more than enough time to leisurely stroll back to the hotel he was staying at and get his suitcase. He had packed last night but he just threw everything in there without bothering to fold it, never being one to be meticulous about his appearance anyway. Even today he donned a pair of black jeans and a gradient violet shirt, light at the top moving to darker at the bottom with an open white shirt over it, black headphones around his neck and messenger bag also black. His blonde hair was in a loose ponytail, not feeling like putting it in its usual high half ponytail today.

"Ah, sorry…"

He gave a grunt as he felt someone push against him, hand tightening around the metal pole. It was disgustingly crowded and humid on that subway; the stench of humans was unbearable and he couldn't wait to get out. He continued to stare at the map, at the highlighted station that was his, willing the subway to go faster.

People were getting impatient and shifting as they stood up and moved towards the door, pushing through a sea of others because everyone wanted to get off as soon as possible. Deidara didn't blame them but he knew better than to try to shove through them; it would just irritate both himself and the others.

It felt like forever when the train finally began slowing down and Deidara's grip tightened on the metal bar. People began stumbling and bumping into each other due to the momentum and the blonde smirked watching them.

It screeched to a halt and Deidara let go of the pole before the door even opened, joining the mass of people exiting the train. He took a huge breath of fresh air and wished those that were going on a good luck, that they wouldn't have to ride through too many stops.

He took a glance at the sign in front of him and saw that he needed to go to exit E, which was to the right. One hand in his pocket, clamping his arm down on his black bag, and the other was adjusting his headphones as he turned, preparing to begin the trek, when a brilliant head of red hair caught his attention.

The crowd of people was moving apart and for just a moment it was like time froze and he saw the other perfectly without any obstruction, memorizing every detail. He had large eyes that were half lidded, giving him an expression that made it seem like he was bored, but at the same time his honey brown eyes looked sharp, like he was an intellectual. Red bangs skimmed his eyes, shaggy and messy like he hadn't bothered to brush his hair before he went out in public. He looked extraordinarily young, with his pale, smooth skin and childish face, but the way he carried himself, the white collar shirt, black v-neck sweater, and maroon tie made it seem otherwise. The outfit, combined with khaki pants, made it seem like he was formal, like he was going somewhere that required him to dress up.

But his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow and he had a lollipop in his mouth, a glazed look in his eyes, almost, as he was walking. He had the air of a mature man but the look of a young boy at the same time, leaving Deidara confused as to who he was, how old he was. But one thing was clear: he wanted to get to know him.

He was intriguing; not only the mature aura yet youthful look but the contrast of his expression to his face, his skin to his hair, the look in his eyes to the lollipop in his mouth.

_I want to get to know him._

The moment passed and time unfroze, people obscuring his view again of the person. Deidara's eyes widened as he thought he lost sight of him but then the red hair appeared in his view again and he quickened his pace, willing himself to not lose sight of him.

Slipping between cracks of people, his blue eyes were focused on the man, wondering why he was so curious, why he was so enthralling, captivating. All he knew was that it was a gut instinct and Deidara found that his gut instinct was almost never wrong.

He hurried, muttering quiet 'excuse me's to people that glared at him as he bumped shoulders, not even bothering to think that they wouldn't understand his Japanese and his Cantonese was only good enough to ask for direction to get to somewhere or how much something was.

_Damnit,_ he swore quietly in his mind when the red hair disappeared from his view. He scowled and walked faster, a brisk pace, scanning the vicinity desperately. It was like he had disappeared into a crowd of people, his red hair, his most distinguishing trait, somehow becoming ordinary.

When he reached the escalator, he ran up it, squeezing between people, continuing to apologize profusely; he hoped that the red haired man was just up ahead, just a bit and that his height was the reason Deidara couldn't find him. It was like the moment he took time for himself to think about the man he disappeared.

When he reached the top of the escalator, standing at the exit, he had to admit that he lost him. He looked around the busy street, the sidewalks with all the people and couldn't see him, the stranger that captivated his attention. Scowling, the blonde relaxed and put both hands in his pocket, eyes narrowed as he began to walk back to his hotel, trying to ignore his disappointment.

How had he managed to get away so quickly, so cleanly?

**x**

Deidara was never lucky.

Lady Luck was never in his favor, whether it was getting good professors or making bets. Deidara found himself always getting the teachers that either spoke very poor Japanese or graded harshly. That was never too bad for him, as he was rather bright (even if people thought otherwise, he really was intelligent); it was just extra work. He had gone gambling once and lost a month's worth of pay as an assistant at an art studio in less than an hour. He knew to never try gambling again.

Being unlucky never bothered him too much because his philosophy was that he had to work hard to get what he wanted, he couldn't simply rely on luck. Some people skated by, riding on superstition, but Deidara never did, choosing hard work over superstition because hard work could guarantee him good results.

So needless to say, serendipity wasn't a word he would associate with himself often. Serendipity, good luck, the aptitude of making desirable discoveries by accident, was something that didn't occur to him. But it wasn't even that good things didn't happen to him; it was just that normal things didn't go well for him typically.

Like nearly missing his flight.

He thought he had time; really, he did. He got back to his hotel at around three and his flight was at seven. Walking back to the hotel consisted of being annoyed that he lost sight of the red haired man, knowing he'd probably never see him again because he was leaving Hong Kong today. Even though he looked Japanese, there was a chance he had moved there.

The blonde pushed the thoughts out of his head and decided to just forget it; he didn't have the kind of luck to meet his "soul mate" or whatever just randomly on the street.

Once he got back to his hotel room, he couldn't just grab his suitcase and leave like he had thought. His phone was ringing as he was checking around to make sure nothing was left and he had to answer because it was from Konan, his art professor; if he ignored her, he'd be in trouble.

It was a short call; all she had said was that the artist Deidara was working with in Hong Kong really thought he had talent and found him another apprenticeship, this time in Tokyo, close to the university so he could study under him longer. Deidara would've been much more excited about this if he knew who the artist was; Konan told him that Deidara probably didn't know him because he rose to fame only very recently and his main work wasn't in the same area as Deidara's. So then he asked why he was being given an apprenticeship with him and Konan clicked her tongue, saying that a true artist would be skilled in all areas and promptly hung up.

He had scowled but pocketed his phone and took his suitcase, grabbing his room key as he left after a final survey of his room. It was only three thirty; he still had three and a half hours before his flight.

But then check out took nearly half an hour because of a fussy guest in front of him which wasn't too bad, the blonde thought, because getting to the airport would take only twenty minutes and security would take an hour—tops. So he remained patient as he waited in line until it was his turn, giving a pleasant smile to the receptionist who seemed grateful for his patience.

Then when he boarded the bus to take him to the airport the traffic was terrible because of an accident earlier that day and it took an hour. But no worries, he thought, he'd get there with two hours. But he was starting to get agitated with his bad luck, ironic since he had been mulling over his lack of good luck earlier that day.

However, he arrived at the airport at about five and felt good about not only getting through security but also grabbing something to eat before he boarded the plane (the food was never very good anyway.)

Until he saw the line.

He felt his stomach drop when he saw the line but swallowed, fine, he would just have to eat on the plane, surely security wouldn't take two hours, would it?, he thought as he stepped in line and put on his headphones, thinking music would at least distract him for a while.

Security didn't take two hours.

But it did take an hour and forty five minutes and Deidara found himself setting off the stupid alarm, forcing him to be checked by hand, eyes narrowing when the guards weren't sure who would check him because they were whispering about his gender, a pretty guy or a masculine girl?

_"A guy, yeah,"_ he had snapped and they flinched.

He had fifteen minutes though.

All fine.

_If his gate was in this terminal._

Now, it wasn't that he had gotten off at the wrong stop at the wrong terminal; he hadn't. It was just that the place was huge and so Deidara found himself sprinting because he already missed the boarding time and if he didn't make it before the take off time—

Well, he would be annoyed.

People were staring at the blonde as he ran through the airport, searching for a bus, a train, anything to take him to where he was supposed to go, _why was this place so goddamn big?!_, he screamed in his mind, blue eyes darting, asking security personnel, nearly knocking over families, squeezing between couples, stopping, turning around, sprinting again, everything, not once stopping until he reached his gate.

_"Cutting it close, hm?"_ the woman had chuckled when she took his ticket. It had taken Deidara everything to not glare at her.

He was the last one on the plane and everyone turned to stare at him, eyebrows quirked at how out of breath he was, chest heaving as he panted. But Deidara ignored him and continued walking until he found his seat, 23B (a college student simply had no money for a first class seat. Besides, it was only a four hour flight.)

Stopping in front of the last remaining empty seat he opened the overhead compartment and, thank god, there was still room for his small suitcase. At least something was going his way, he thought as he stowed the handle and lifted it, easily sliding it into the small space and closing the overhead compartment before he sat down in his seat and immediately buckled the seatbelt.

The person next to him seemed to be sleeping, Deidara thought with amusement, as the blanket covered his head. _Must be really tired if he's sleeping already…_

Soon the flight attendants were making their checks through the plane as they made sure compartments were closed, seatbelts were fastened, seats were in the upright position. And then the safety message that Deidara ignored, an announcement to turn off electronics, and then, finally, they began moving.

The blonde always enjoyed the moment of take off the most. He loved that moment of liberation, of freedom, that moment he became airborne even in a faux manner.

His views on art were all about freedom, liberation, believing in a fleeting beauty, that true art couldn't be captured or confined, only experienced temporarily, ephemerally before it disappeared, unable to be recreated exactly. Deidara loved birds, often sculpting them out of his clay, taking meticulous care on the wings, which he always thought were the most beautiful part of a bird.

Art was his life, having breathed it from when he first picked up play-doh (having moved onto more sophisticated clay at the tender age of three.) His parents didn't seem to mind of his choice to become an artist. Or maybe they did, Deidara wondered, but he just didn't realize it. Either way, he was going to become an artist, despite the risks, the possibility of not being financially secure. He heard people say that it was a waste for someone that bright to not utilize his brain but Deidara rolled his eyes.

_"What's the use of a brain if you fall into depression and kill yourself, yeah?"_ he would ask with a smirk, _"I won't be happy I do art. Simple as that, yeah."_

It was about twenty minutes later when the announcement came on that electronics were all right to use. Deidara put his headphones on and took out the book he had put in the pouch in front of him, deciding to read until the food was served (he was so hungry he didn't care how atrocious the food would be.) He didn't read very often but found himself drawn to a book every now and then, idly flipping through the pages and digesting the words. He could finally relax after being so worried; hopefully his luck would turn around soon.

However, idle flipping soon became engrossing and he found himself completely engulfed in the book that he didn't even notice the flight attendant ask him what he wanted the first time or the second. When she tapped him on the shoulder lightly he still didn't feel it.

It took the person next to him to yank of his headphones and snap "what do you want, you brat, chicken or beef?"

Deidara jerked in surprise and also annoyance at being interrupted so rudely. He turned to the person next to him—when had he woken up?—and opened his mouth to offer a biting insult but froze, eyes widening.

It was the man from the subway today.

_No way,_ he found himself thinking, mind racing, _no way in hell. My luck… my luck doesn't work out like this._

"So?" the redhead repeated, eyes narrowed and a scowl pulling on his lips, "Chicken or beef?"

"Chicken," he muttered then shook his head and turned to the flight attendant, repeating the word. She smiled pleasantly and leaned down, picking up a tray and handing it to him. Deidara heard 'chicken as well' from the other man and leaned back to allow her to pass the tray to him.

He heard the male unwrap his food quickly and, glancing over, saw that he folded the aluminum. Who _folded_ used aluminum?

A quick glance at him reconfirmed that he was, indeed, the same person that Deidara had seen in the subway. He was in different clothes, dark wash jeans and a black long sleeve v-neck and he finished the lollipop between now and then, but that face, that hair, those eyes were the same.

He wanted to talk to him, but what could he say? He couldn't very well say that he saw him in the subway—

"So I saw you in the subway today, yeah."

-damnit.

Slowly, the man turned to him, a thin red brow arched in question. Deidara knew to hold his gaze, to not look away first, managing to pick up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks without looking down and eating it because he really was starving.

"What are you," he asked finally with a frown, "a stalker?"

"You're not very polite, aren't you, yeah?" Deidara snapped back, not liking this guy's attitude. His blue eyes narrowed and he looked back to his food, beginning to pick out the green beans (or whatever those things were.) Perhaps stating that directly was a bit odd but at the same time it didn't warrant such a response.

"I don't have any time to wait for stupid brats," he heard as an answer, "especially when I'm starving."

"Something tells me it's not just your hunger that makes you act like such a prick, yeah," Deidara said dryly, smirking when he felt a glare directed his way. He opened the plastic wrapping around the bread and bit into it, "Maybe you seemed nicer in the subway."

"What makes you think you saw me?" he asked quietly and Deidara couldn't but look over, a triumphant smirk dancing on his lips.

"Ah, curious?"

"Worried that you're a stalker."

"You were wearing a black sweater with a maroon tie and a white collared shirt," he answered, watching his eyes widen momentarily, "Khaki pants. Lollipop in your mouth, yeah. Looking bored. And your red hair looks just as messy as it did back then."

He received no answer, only a 'tch,' but wasn't too perturbed by that; he had about three and a half hours left sitting next to him anyway. He had finished the bread and was poking at the chicken and rice, wondering if it was edible. The chicken itself wasn't too bad but the rice had an odd taste as did the carrots and green beans. Deidara never even liked vegetables much to begin with.

The dinner trays were taken away soon after and Deidara asked for a Pepsi while the redhead, who still remained unnamed, asked for coffee without any cream or sugar. Deidara found it quite fitting to his personality but he couldn't feel slightly disappointed that the person he had been so interested to meet turned out to be a, for a lack of better words, douche.

He put his headphones back on and opened his book, resuming his reading because he had been interrupted at a crucial part of the novel, not caring what the guy next to him did (but his eyes cared and a glance told him that he was reading through documents of some kind, scowling.)

Deidara had just gotten into the book, forgotten about the asshole next to him, losing himself in the words when he was jerked back to reality—again—by his headphones being jerked away from his ears, dropped to resting around his neck. "Oi, what's-?!"

"Why did you notice me?"

The question interrupted his annoyed exclamation, spoken in a nonchalant and casual tone, brown eyes gazing at him evenly. The documents were put away and a laptop was taken out, open to Microsoft Word and it seemed to be an essay. _College student?_, Deidara wondered but ignored it.

"You could've tapped my shoulder, yeah. What if you broke my headphones?"

"They survived the first time. They'll be fine. Now answer my question," he said the last part with a menacing glare and Deidara sighed; it wasn't hard to tell that this guy really wasn't patient in the slightest sense.

"You seemed interesting, yeah?" he answered and closed his book, leaning back in his seat, "You were like… ah, how do I put it? …A collection of paradoxes."

"Paradoxes," he echoed. For the first time since he had seen him, there was a trace of surprise in his expression, different from the usual nonchalance.

"Yeah," Deidara nodded, shrugging and picked up his can of Pepsi, taking a sip before continuing, "You look young but you have a mature aura and, based on how you act, you have the childish innocent of a man in a mid life crisis. Pale skin, red hair. Sucking on candy while dressed formally. You seem interesting, yeah? I tried to talk to you but you disappeared."

"So you _were_ stalking me."

Deidara scoffed. "Hardly." The blonde was surprised at the lazy tone in his last sentence, having associated the redhead with impatience and annoyance. But he sounded almost amused which could be a good or bad thing, Deidara reasoned. He cast his blue eyes to him again. "You have a name?"

It took him a moment, as if he was wondering if it was safe to give out his name but answered. "Sasori."

"Deidara," he answered, giving a slight smile and he was returned with a smirk. It was ridiculous but he felt a flutter in his chest when he saw the smirk; when Sasori smirked it was like all the childish innocence was stripped away and it was evident that he was older, wiser, not innocent. "How old are you?" he asked suddenly and saw Sasori raise an eyebrow, "Or are you as young as I think you are?"

"Twenty six."

"Ah. Only six years older than me then, yeah?"

"College student?" Sasori asked, seeming to be interested for the first time. Deidara gave a smirk and nodded.

"Third year at Tokyo University. Came to Hong Kong to study under an artist for a few weeks but now I'm going up, yeah."

"Any plans?"

"Studying under another," he answered, hardly perturbed by Sasori's questions, "My professor told me she got me another apprenticeship, yeah. Under someone influential that I haven't heard of, apparently, because the kind of art he makes isn't my style."

He heard a low 'hm' from Sasori who seemed as if he was contemplating what Deidara had thought. "What kind of art do you do?" he asked suddenly and Deidara turned to face him, finally surprised that they were actually conversing.

"Sculptures," he answered and Sasori seemed all right with the idea until he added, "and I blow them up, yeah."

"You _blow them up?_" he asked incredulously, brown eyes wide at the blonde's grin, "What notion would possess you to do something as stupid as that?"

"Art is something fleeting, transient," he answered, finding that he only grew more amused as Sasori's expression darkened, a scowl forming, "True art lasts only temporarily."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of," Sasori answered, his glare only goading Deidara into a wider smirk, "Fine art, true art, is something that's left long into the future, eternal beauty."

"Hm? That's old man talk, yeah?" Deidara retorted back, "Fine art is the beauty of a single fleeting moment of explosion, something that cannot be recreated. Something that's in the present and the present only."

Sasori glared at him, raising a hand to close his laptop, a 'tch' escaping from between his lips. "You're a naïve brat that doesn't understand art. I cannot see how someone like you is able to garner apprenticeships."

"I'm talented, yeah?"

"Bashful too."

Sasori rolled his eyes and looked away but he wasn't truly irritated, Deidara could tell. A bit, surely, but not to the point where he wanted to stop talking, the blonde thought, and glanced at the time. An hour and forty five minutes until landing, he raised an eyebrow, time passed quite quickly.

Being such a late flight, many of the passengers were already asleep but Deidara found himself awake and Sasori had already napped so he wasn't sleeping either. It felt odd to talk in the dark and amidst the silence but Deidara found himself trying to think of things to talk about anyway.

Somehow after finding out that Sasori was such an ass made him want to talk to him more; it made him more interesting, fascinating to the younger blonde. Six years older but looked younger and another artist. What kind of art did he do, how long had he done it, was he a professor or freelance artist? So many questions raced through his mind but he was unable to utter a single one.

It made no sense; this was a stranger that he had met again, oddly by chance, someone he shouldn't be so wary around, so nervous. After all, it didn't matter if he made a fool of himself because he wouldn't see him again.

Unless he wanted to.

Eyes widening slightly, his breath hitched when he realized that he did want to see Sasori again, that the interesting man from the subway was now the fascinating twenty six year old artist. It seemed far too coincidental for him to simply let go, just let their meeting remain as a glimpse and a fleeting conversation. He first saw Sasori in the subway in Hong Kong then lost him but found himself sitting next to him on the flight to Tokyo, after nearly missing his flight.

This was not just coincidence.

This was genuine good luck.

"Student at Tokyo University, hm?"

Sasori's voice brought Deidara out of his daze and he realized that he had spent far too much time in his own mind as they were now landing, wondering how he didn't realize they were descending; he had been lost in his mind for nearly two hours? "Yeah," he answered, slightly disappointed that the flight seemed to go by so quickly when he felt the wheels touch down on the ground, everyone in the plane moving a bit in their seats.

"I was a student there," Sasori answered with a slight smile gracing his lips as he looked at him, "…Good art program. I suppose you are talented. It's true what they say about where you go for grad school," Sasori continued and Deidara's eyebrow raised, knowing that getting into Tokyo University for grad was considerably harder than undergrad for art and was wondering if he would be able to get in himself, "You stick around."

The blonde felt his heart skip a beat as the words registered in his mind. "So you're in the Tokyo area?"

"I'm in Tokyo itself, brat," Sasori chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt the moment the sign dimmed. Deidara followed suit and slipped into the aisle, opening the compartment and retrieving his suitcase. He took a step back to allow Sasori to take out his luggage which was only be a backpack and when he felt Deidara's curious glance he smirked at him.

"Checked in the rest," he answered, sliding the strap onto his right arm, laptop held under his left, "Some of us stayed for a while and needed more room than that tiny thing you call a suitcase."

"What were you doing in Hong Kong for so long?" Deidara asked, glad for an opportunity to ask a question and continue the conversation. He subconsciously raised a hand to push his fringe out of his eye, just to have it fall back down again.

"Inspiration," he answered simply, giving Deidara a half smirk that the blonde couldn't help but admit he found attractive, a confident and arrogant smirk that transformed his childish face into an adult's. "Sometimes you just need a change of scenery. I'm sure as an artist you know that too, no?"

"I've been wondering this for a while," Deidara said as they began moving, careful to not get the wheels of his suitcase didn't get caught on one of the seats, "but what kind of art do you do?"

He got no answer until they departed the plane and Sasori hesitated for a moment, letting Deidara catch up to him. "Something you would have no interest in," he answered, giving a mysterious smile and shrug as Deidara pressed him for details, trying to figure it out but remained silent.

Deidara had given up when they reached the waiting area and stopped in front, hesitating before they parted ways, heart pounding as he rehearsed his next question in his mind.

"Do I get a last name?" Deidara asked, a falsely confident smirk on his lips, "A phone number?"

"You said you saw me in the subway back in Hong Kong, didn't you?" Sasori asked quietly, waiting until Deidara gave a nod, "Do you think that both of these were chance meetings?"

"…No," Deidara answered after a moment, frowning in confusion, "I mean, two chance meetings isn't just change anymore, it's more like—"

"—fate?" he finished quietly and Deidara gave a silent nod. The redhead smirked.

"Third time's the charm," he said in a low voice and Deidara's eyes widened, breath hitching at the mischievous glint in his eyes, "If we meet a third time, I'll give you my number. How does that sound?"

Sasori didn't give him a chance to answer before he turned around and began walking off towards the baggage claim. Deidara had half a mind to chase after him but his phone began buzzing suddenly and he didn't even have to check to know that it was from Hidan who would kill him if he kept him waiting anymore.

"That's unfair, Sasori, yeah?!" he called after him. The redhead held up a hand without turning around and gave a short wave before the hand dropped.

Deidara tried really hard to be mad and to push him out of his mind but he couldn't help a small smirk grace his lips.

_Lady Luck, be kind to me just one more time, yeah?_

**x**

Two weeks passed before he was to start his new apprenticeship.

Deidara had busied himself with unpacking and catching up with friends for a few days but after three days, it was impossible to not think about Sasori. He even went outside more than he normally would, roaming some of Tokyo's most populated streets, hanging around campus in case Sasori wanted to revisit.

The problem with Tokyo was that it was too big and there were far too many people. Deidara wasn't misanthropic but he certainly felt like it.

It couldn't be that hard to find red hair, he thought with annoyance. He was a short guy (just a bit shorter than he was but he refused to think about that), wih huge eyes, a doll-looking face, and red hair; how could he miss that?

He spent much more time outside than he normally would, going into art shops when he didn't need to, hoping that Sasori was buying supplies because that would've answered his question of what kind of art Sasori was into. He tried to come up with an answer himself. Painting? Drawing? Maybe sculptures too? Because they did last a while if not blown up.

But two weeks had passed and he still hadn't seen Sasori and was beginning to think his luck ran out. Because, after all, he didn't have any luck; seeing Sasori twice in itself was rather amazing, considering that such happenings didn't happen to him, especially serendipitous events.

He was still annoyed that Sasori wouldn't give him his number though, he thought as he walked to the studio that Konan told him to go to, what harm would that have done? The guy was just being a prick, he sighed, just messing with him; he knew they wouldn't see each other again. He seemed like the manipulative kind, anyway, like he was a sadist.

A glance at the building he had stopped in front of seeing the number 748 alerted him that he had arrived. He had been in such a rush, in such a haze because of stupid, stupid Sasori for the last two weeks, mind full of thoughts of the redhead. He took a quick look at the plaques and looked at the sixth floor, wondering who the artist was. He hadn't asked Konan for a full name, only bugged her for what kind of art.

_"What does he do anyway?"_

He had heard her laugh over the phone.

_"Puppetry."_

The building was nice, he dryly noted, lots of glass and metal everywhere, a very modern building. This didn't seem like the type of building that the blonde himself would seek an apprenticeship in, which was probably why Konan sent him there.

His blue haired professor always sent him to places he wouldn't go, always gave him projects he wouldn't do otherwise. She said that he needed more flexibility, to open his eyes; he was still young, still learning about art, still susceptible to change. He always rolled his eyes but obeyed her because over the years, he had come to trust her quite a bit.

_Wonder if I'll ever see Sasori again…?_

He shook his head as he stepped into the elevator and began to go upwards, hating that he was so preoccupied with someone that probably didn't want to see him again, choosing a subtle way to brush him off. _He was an ass anyway, yeah. I don't care about him._

The elevator rose slowly and Deidara crossed his arms, today donning a pair of dark wash jeans and a light blue button up, sleeves rolled to his elbow. Konan told him to make sure he was formal and while he said 'yeah, yeah, whatever' he had forgotten. At least the button up would, supposedly, be part of something formal.

When he arrived at the six floor, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He still didn't look forward to the internship—puppetry, Konan, really?—but knew he had take it seriously. These apprenticeships would undoubtedly help with grad school applications. It was odd to stay at the same school for eight years, he knew, but he loved the university and it was the top school in the nation—it made sense to stay.

_Wonder how Sasori got in?_

Immediately, he shook his head; no, he reprimanded himself as he stopped in front of the door, seeing the name 'Akasuna' on a plaque next to the double doors, tinted windows with metal handles. _Akasuna…_ he frowned, _…I have never heard of an Akasuna._

No more thinking about Sasori, he decided and raised a hand, knocking, time to get to work and completely forget about Sasori.

"Come in," he heard. The voice sounded oddly familiar but he shook it off; it was just stupid Sasori getting—

"Put on an apron, grab a pair of goggles. Use your brain, don't cut a finger off, no explosives."

Eyes wide, he felt only an apron being shoved in his arms the moment he stepped in, the door not even fully closing behind him. He saw just a blur of—

"…Sasori?"

"Danna," he corrected, pausing in front of him, smirking. Deidara stared, feeling the heat rushing to his cheeks, head spinning at the sight of the redhead that had been plaguing him for two weeks. He wondered if this was some kind of lookalike but when he saw the smirk he knew it wasn't; that was Sasori's smirk, that was his air of confidence, that was his face. "I'm your danna now, brat, so show me respect."

"You… did you… did you _know_?" he stammered, remembering suddenly Sasori's questions and his last words about third time's the charm. _Had the bastard been planning this…?_

"Tokyo University student coming back to study under an artist that he hasn't heard of? I figured it out quickly," he nodded, only shrugging at Deidara's seemingly permanent shocked expression. "And you fit the blonde kid that Konan tells me about—"

"You know Konan, yeah?"

"Of course I do. We were classmates. Now, get to work, start by sanding down the wood. Oh," he paused and turned to him, still enjoying the speechless blonde, staring stupidly, a very different side of him compared to the one he saw on the plane two weeks ago.

"Five four seven eight one two six," he said, eyes glinting slyly, "Third time's the charm, right?"

**.author's notes: this was inspired by a picture i keep seeing on tumblr, haha. i hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading and reviews are, as always, appreciated and adored.**


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